Aftershocks
by GoldenJezebel
Summary: With Will at his breaking point, Abigail seduces him in his car.


**A/N****:** This is technically the sequel to "Falling Prey." Usually, my one-shots don't require any backstory, but this one actually does. This is a smutty snippet from an RP of mine, in which Abigail came to Will at his hotel after she'd killed Boyle. He'd just had his dream about killing her (and had developed a bit of a "murder boner"), and Abigail saw. But since she was so distraught, she didn't pay much mind to it. Until now. But other than that, just know that Will helped Abigail bury the body and has been trying to deviate the Bureau's attentions ever since. And now, on to more debauchery. Enjoy!

**"Aftershocks"**

Abigail was irritated. She knew that Will probably couldn't contact her without rousing suspicion, but it still bothered her that he couldn't send a simple text to assure her things were still alright between them. The phone sex had left a tension in the air that had yet to dissipate. It had been two weeks, but it still plagued her thoughts every day.

During lunch, things went from bad to worse. Another patient (a girl named Mathilda) had decided to taunt her with cruel remarks about her father. It hadn't been long before they got into a fight. Abigail had launched herself at the girl and their scuffle quickly turned into something far more serious. There was hair-pulling, scratching, and punching from both sides.

When the fight was broken up, Abigail had a black eye and scratch marks along her cheek. Mathilda was worse off, with a bloody nose and busted lip. Abigail had been swiftly brought into the head doctor's office and was told her guardian would be called. It made her smile. Her guardian was listed as Professor William Graham.

* * *

Admittedly, Will was shocked to get the call. Abigail knew better than to draw attention to herself, so it was with grim unease that he found himself in the head physician's office. The moment his eyes fell on Abigail, his shoulders tensed and he struggled to keep himself in check. She was hurt – he hadn't realized just how _bothered_ he would feel to see her assaulted. It rankled him something fierce. He felt inadequate, _useless,_ and a part of him couldn't help but worry that she'd acted out on purpose. To get back at _him._

"Are you okay?" he asked, resisting the urge to cross the room and take her bruised, scratched face in between his shaking hands.

"She's fine," Dr. Barham coolly said. "It's _Mathilda_ we're worried about. She might have a broken nose. She's in the infirmary now, getting treatment for her wounds."

Cautious, Will looked in between Abigail and Barham with concern. "Then…what does this mean for Abigail?"

"I'm afraid that here at Port Haven, we don't tolerate violence of _any_ kind. It would go against our rules and regulations to keep her here."

"But…she still needs help," Will argued. "If you cast out everyone who gets into a fight, I somehow have a feeling you'd have a very small sect of patients."

"Perhaps," Barham agreed, "but none of my patients have ever resorted to quite _this_ level of violence."

"And just what happened, exactly?"

"Mathilda brought up Abigail's father…something about asking whether or not he kept the victims' bloody clothes."

Will's eyes narrowed. "With all due respect, sir, it sounds as if she _deserved _it."

"Well! With that kind of attitude, I hope you're prepared to take her under your wing. We will allow Abigail a small grace period, to show that she can handle herself enough to return, but until then, consider her officially suspended from the grounds. Please gather her things and take her at once."

Will looked to Abigail in wide-eyed bemusement. "I, uh…I'll help you pack," he stammered, still in a state of disbelief.

Abigail rose from her seat, her expression pinched as she led Will back to her room. Grabbing her bag, she angrily folded her clothes and tucked in the possessions she owned.

"Don't scold me, I know exactly what I did," she warned.

Her sharp tone caused Will to grimace. "I wasn't going to say anything," he assured her. "As wrong as it may be, I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself. You _deserve_ to be treated kindly, and quite frankly, it seems like this is the best option for you. And now that you've been thrown out of Port Haven, our sudden relationship won't come into question." Blinking at his admission, he quickly amended, "By 'relationship,' I naturally mean our forced camaraderie. Nobody will think I helped with Boyle after the fact."

Or at least, that was what he liked to tell himself.

Slipping Abigail's belongings into her overnight bag, Will frowned as he appraised her swollen face. "Did you need some ice for that?"

Childishly, he thought of the age-old mantra _"kiss it better,"_ but immediately dropped his eyes and zipped up her bag. His own mother hadn't bothered with that bullshit, so he most certainly wasn't going to.

Abigail looked up at Will. The skin underneath her left eye was turning a pretty shade of bluish-purple, and it left her cheek swollen, while the other side of her face had four rough scratch marks going from the corner of her eye to her jaw. "I'm fine. Let's just get out of here," she said, grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

As they walked out of the hospital, the tension between them became clear. It was thick, almost palpable, and a mixture of something sexual and something far more concerning: the fear of the unknown.

Abigail sighed when she stepped out of the building, feeling the sun beating down on her. She stood in the warm rays. It had been a while since she had been outside. "You never mentioned where you lived," she said, turning her attention to Will.

"Oh, uh…so I haven't," he agreed, chuckling sheepishly. "I live in Wolf Trap, Virginia. It's a considerable drive from here, so I hope you enjoy road trips." Weighing his options, he hesitantly offered, "We could always stop at a motel, should the drive be too much for you. But, uh…I live in an old farm house with tons of solitary property. It's just me and my seven dogs."

Normally, he was a bit loath to admit just _how many_ dogs he had (he was quite rapidly pushing the legal limit), but with Abigail, he somehow imagined she would be delighted by the number.

"We don't need to stop. I'll be fine for a drive," Abigail assured him. Her eyes widened at the mention of how many dogs she had. A genuine, wide smile broke across her face. "Seven? I always wanted a dog, but my parents never allowed it. Too messy." She opened up the back door of Will's car and put her bag in. "Is it okay if I play with them? Or do they not like strangers?"

Will chuckled at her reaction, finding her enthusiasm genuinely infectious. "I think you would've been a great pet owner," he assured her, helping her into the car. "Now that you'll be living with me for a while, maybe you can adopt one of them. Or, more accurately, _they_ will probably adopt _you._ Dogs seem to choose us."

Heading over to the driver's side, Will slid into the car and smiled as he mulled over her questions. "Of course you can play with them," he promised. "They'll love it. After we get you settled in, we can take a walk by the pond. They enjoy it out there."

Hesitant, Will chewed his lip before laying a hand over hers and squeezing her fingers. "I've missed you," he gently assured her. "I know it may not feel like it, what with my constant avoidance, but…you _know_ why I haven't been able to visit. In some type of twisted way, maybe this was just the excuse we needed."

Abigail looked down at their hands. Her heart fluttered, and a mental image of Will getting off to her during their phone sex conversation flashed through her mind. "I've missed you too," she admitted, looking into his eyes. "I know why you didn't call…but it still hurt not being able to talk with you," she said softly, her thumb rubbing the back of Will's large hand. "You're the only one that I trust." She couldn't trust anyone else, she _couldn't. _She knew that people were deceptive, because she was too. She could lie easily, and that frightened her sometimes.

Will nodded, flashing a bittersweet smile as she stroked his hand. Her touch was gentle and feather-light – he couldn't believe she had the hands of a killer.

"I missed your touch," Abigail said, which could have been innocent if it hadn't been for their conversation. It had all started with an admittance of missing touch.

Her whisper brought a shiver of wrongness to Will's spine, and compulsively, he leaned over to press a warm, lingering kiss to her freckled brow. He had never touched her – not in the way she was proposing – and after nudging his cheek into hers, he lowly whispered in her ear, "We have time to get to know each other, Abigail. Let's not rush this, okay? I want…I-I want everything to be perfect for you in Wolf Trap."

Embracing her around the shoulders, Will lightly stroked her hair and kissed her non-injured cheek. "Do you think you can do that for me? Do you think you can wait?"

Abigail frowned. She didn't want to wait. She had been waiting for a month and a half now to see Will, so she didn't want to take things slowly.

"You want me to wait?" she asked in disbelief. "I'm not a very patient person."

"It's the right thing to do," Will asserted, gently stroking her hair. "Just until we get everything figured out…it's what you deserve."

Abigail seemed glum, but she more or less acquiesced, and then they were headed on the path back to his home. _Their_ home. The thought was still so surreal.

After turning on a classic rock station, Will began to hum along with the old music, tapping his left foot while the right remained pressed to the gas. That was when Abigail made her move. At first, he merely thought she was adjusting something in the console – looking for something, perhaps? – but then her hand was on his thigh, and he jerked so strongly that he nearly cut the wheel.

"W-what are you doing?" he choked. "Abigail…" Glancing her way with wild eyes, Will came to his senses enough to grasp her wrist. She began to palm him through his pants, making quick work of arousing him to semi-hardness.

Sucking a breath through his teeth, Will traitorously moved her hand down lower, encouraging her to cup him as he curled her soft, delicate fingers over his cock. She had small hands – _gentle_ hands – which were a far cry from his tough, weather-beaten ones. He was used to fashioning lures and fixing boat motors, and now he seemed hellbent on destroying Abigail's remaining innocence.

"Forgive me," he whispered, unsure if he'd even spoken the words aloud.

Abigail's eyes went wide. He was semi-hard – she could feel that through his trousers – but even so, she wondered if she would be able to stretch to fit him. She had never had sex. She was a late bloomer, which was just another way of saying her father quite literally would have killed any man she dated.

"You don't have to be sorry," she whispered, and unbuckled her seatbelt in order to scoot closer to him, pressing up against his side. She massaged his trapped length, squeezing him through his pants. "You're already so big, Will. What if I can't fit you? What if I'm too tight?" she purred, squeezing his cock again.

From where Will was sitting, there was _plenty_ to need forgiveness for. He hated this – he hated _himself_ – and guiltily, he squirmed in her grasp as she moved in closer.

"D-don't," he choked, indicating her seatbelt. "Sweetheart, it's not safe…"

Abigail responded by stroking him more persistently, her palm rolling over his cock again and again until he began to leak in anticipation.

Her words were soft and filthy, and despite his firm grip on the steering wheel, he began to drift slightly into the other lane. Quickly correcting the car, he exhaled and swallowed.

"I can prep you," he weakly said. "I can…I-I can lick you until you're wet, then fill you up with my fingers. I don't want it to hurt." Laying a hand against the small of her back, he drifted his hand down over her bottom and lifted the back of her skirt, hesitating only a moment before pressing his fingers against the wet, soiled spot on her panties. "Do you want me to keep touching you, Abi? Do you need me inside you?"

He was disgusting – he was _depraved._ But as she rubbed him through his pants, and he stroked her clothed clit, he was beginning to realize he was too far gone for redemption.

Abigail took in Will's words like an addict inhaling smoke. He was making her wet with only his words, and a gasp escaped her when she felt his hand move under her skirt and press into her wet panties. "Oh- Will…" She nuzzled her face into his shoulder. She knew her underwear would be ruined after this. "Touch me. Don't stop," she pleaded.

Abigail nuzzled into him, and it filled him with pure, stinging heat to see her so enraptured, so _free _beneath his wandering hand. He dipped his fingers beneath her panties and stroked along her slit once, twice, before cautiously pushing two fingers inside her slick heat. He drew a breath at how _tight_ and warm she was. Clenching his jaw, a soft groan escaped him as Abigail finally unfastened his pants.

While he curled his fingers deep inside her, stroking at her pleasure spot, Abigail experimentally stroked his cock and his head fell back against the headrest.

"God…" Fingerfucking her in time to her strokes, Will's left arm began to cramp due to driving with his non-dominant arm. "You feel so good, Abi," he whispered, obscene, slick little noises filling the car as she stretched around his probing fingers. "Are you gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Aaaah-" Abigail whined as Will's fingers assaulted her spot, making her moan. With her free hand, she clutched Will's shoulder, her thighs tensing as he stroked and rubbed at her soaked insides. "Will, your fingers are so good, so big inside of me…"

She hastened her speed as she stroked him, her fist tight as she jerked his hard, long length. His hot, velvety skin was slick with precum, and she felt him pulse in her hand. She knew he was close.

"I'll cum for you. I promise, I'll cum," she whispered, jerking her hand more strongly. "Ah- I'm- I'm going to…"

With Abigail's face pressed into his chest, Will could almost pretend that the debauched, hurried movements between her legs were not his own – that he wasn't pleasuring his own ward as she, in turn, stroked him to a painful rigidity.

Clenching his fist around the steering wheel, he arched into her jerking hand and shuddered, feeling her rock against his lap in time to the hurried, urgent thrusts between her legs.

Abigail began babbling, and then she came hard, shaking gently as she twitched and released around his flexing fingers. "That's it," Will soothed, still thrusting into her orgasm. "Take me in, sweetheart."

She arched and whined, and then her hands jacked him more strongly. With his posture tensing, Will drew a breath and seized up, his body trembling as the all-too familiar ache made itself known.

"Abi," he stammered. "Abi, I…I-I'm going to…" Trailing off, he made a strangled noise, and then he came amidst her fervent stroking, his foot braking on the vehicle to keep them from careening right off the road. They rolled to a crunching stop not long after.

Breathing heavily, he looked down at Abigail and chuckled weakly. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you _didn't_ try and kill us with your next attempt at intimacy." With a shaking, unsteady hand, he leaned over and opened the glove compartment. "I have some hankies in there," he said. "You can use one to clean yourself up."

Abigail was very pleased when Will orgasmed, her own having left her trembling with aftershocks. She grinned at his words. He was right, she should have waited until they were in a safer situation, but she couldn't help herself. She'd had to have him right then. Turning away from him, she opened the glove compartment to fetch the cloths.

Still trying to catch his breath, Will found he couldn't resist when she returned to him with a handkerchief, her eyes bright and warm as she began cleaning his soiled lap.

"I liked these pants, you know," he quipped, pausing to fondly cup her cheek. Abigail twisted away (though more out of necessity), and he felt something primal twitch inside of him when she cleaned her wet, sticky thighs. She then removed her panties, and with a low release of breath, he took his foot off the brake, and once more resumed in (much safer) driving.

"Next time maybe you shouldn't tell me to wait," she quipped, lying her head in his lap. On impulse, Will drew his soiled fingers through her hair in several careful, gentle strokes.

"We've got about four more hours," he reminded her. "All we can _do_ is wait." Brushing his thumb along her swollen cheek, he smiled and began rubbing gently in between her shoulder blades.

Fondly mirroring his smile, Abigail closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
